


Cannibal Queen (Draft)

by Cornicello



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4393523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornicello/pseuds/Cornicello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles's car breaks down in the middle of a snow storm in a secluded area he is forced to spend the night at Hale manor, will he stay or will he go? Werwolves and cannibals and sterek. Note: this is not a complete work, this is a draft so that I can incorporate reader's opinions into perfecting this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cannibal Queen (Draft)

 

The cold december air stung like needles against his now rosy cheeks and his ears turned a deep magenta pink. In his hand his cell phone is no surprise useless, the speaker only replaying the same automated message for the tenth time in a row.

“Bullocks.” He mutters. “Bloody hell, I’m going to die out here.” He pops the bonnet and jumps out of his car to look at the engine, he didn’t know shit about cars but worth a try eh. Barely alive with any hope left he slams the front of his car shut and tries to start it again. With a roar turning into a pleasant rumble his car miraculously started.

“Yes! Thank the lord.” He drives back onto the main road, and continues for some ten miles until he felt his wheels change pitch and the engine stopped.

“No, not again. Come on!” He whined and begged like a little boy for the vehicle to start again before he realises it’s not the engine’s problem. It’s his problem, the gauge indicated that his gas tank was empty. Groaning he sits in his seat out of ideas, until sees a chimney among the white frosted canopy of pine trees. Seeing this as the only better option he stuffed his wallet, cell phone and keys into the pockets of his pea coat and made his way on foot to the chimney. Where there’s a chimney there must be people, and if there weren’t there should at least be a promising possibility of potential heat and shelter.

By the time he arrived at the origin of the chimney, all ten of his digits had nearly gone numb from the bitter cold air. He gasped at the sight before him, the said chimney apparently belonged to a neo-gothic georgian mansion easily four times the size of the small four bedroom house that he himself grew up in back in his home town. He gave the wrought iron gates a firm nudge and to his surprise they creaked open.

At the main doors he banged the knocker on the right door a total of three times before they opened, heat seeping out with only a middle aged man in the way. The middle aged man, had dark hair that was just begging to grey, but despite his age he still looked exceptionally attractive. The man wore from what he could see, a dress shirt and waistcoat.

“May I help you?”

“Well yes actually, I would very much appreciate it if you would lend me your telephone, you see my car broke down just a little further along the main road.”

The man donned a calculating expression but opened the door wider and let the younger oblivious gentleman inside where warmth permeated.

“Thank you so much. If you hadn’t answered the door, I surely would have froze to death out there in the wilderness.”

“No worries, the pleasure is all mine. May I take your coat, Mr.,?”

“Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski. And no, I think that I would rather keep my coat on for just a little while.” The man shrugged with a smile.

“Of course. Well our telephone is just next to the fire mantle. Let me go get you a nice cup of tea to warm you up.” Stiles gave a polite little smile and mutter a few words of gratitude.

Picking up the telephone, he froze in his spot. The land line was, well dead. He nervously tapped the hang button for a few times, but no sound whatsoever came out of the speaker. No sound at all.

“Mr. Stilinski?” A voice called from behind causing Stiles to gasp, spinning around still clutching the telephone.

“Is something the matter, Sir?”

His heart sped up. “Oh, just. The telephone, it’s dead. The line isn’t responding.”

The man had a small sympathetic smile on his face and set down on the table a silver platter of tea and a small plate of biscuits. He picked up the pot of tea and filled a cup on it’s saucer, picking it up.

“The storm is pretty bad outside as of now, it’s now uncommon for the line to be affected during a blizzard. Here, have a cup of tea to warm up and maybe you can try the telephone again later when the storm lights up.”

Stiles relaxed a little, taking the cup from the man. Emphasis on “little”, to actually he did not relax at all. Sitting down he noticed that all the furniture in this house are probably antiques that he would not be able to afford with a lifetime’s worth of salary money.

“Would you like for me to take your coat now, Mr. Stilinski?”

Stiles nodded and shrugged it off handing it to his host. “Yes, thank you very much. So I didn’t catch your name.” He sips his cup of tea.

“Hale. Peter Hale.”

“Well it certainly is very nice to meet you Mr. Hale.” Peter smiled calmly.

**  
“It is certainly very nice to meet you aswell.” After a second sip of tea, he felt dizzy. His eyelids were growing heavier. There was no energy for him to summon before he fell onto the rococo styled sofa like a burlap sack full of bricks.**


End file.
